A Spark
by skygirl55
Summary: Kate Beckett and Richard Castle go to the Hamptons circa 2x22. (Slight-AU - takes place in the universe set up by prior story "A Glimpse")
1. Chapter 1

_Kate Beckett and Richard Castle go to the Hamptons circa 2x22. (Quasi-AU - takes place in the universe set up by prior story "A Glimpse")_

* * *

 _A/N:While it is not absolutely necessary, I *HIGHLY* recommend you read "A Glimpse" before reading this, because otherwise you might be a little confused as to how Kate & Castle saw their future. There will be 3 or 4 parts to this piece of the story taking place in what is being called the "Henry Universe"_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

 **One**

"Here we are: home sweet Hamptons."

Kate Beckett fought to keep her jaw from crashing into her lap when the writer pulled into the driveway of the largest house on the street—which, given that they were in Southampton, New York, said something. "Oh, Castle." She exhaled as he pulled his silver Mercedes S-Class around the circular driveway, stopping just in front of the home's welcoming wrap-around porch. In a word, it was breathtaking.

At one point during their three hour trek Castle had rattled off the home's details, so she knew the basics: built in the early 2000's, nine thousand square feet, six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, and one swimming pool. Despite these impressive stats, the writer had not accurately described the exterior as being out of a fairytale. Nor did Kate have any prior concept of just how large nine thousand square feet appeared when it was sprawled out in front of her.

Her jaw hanging with no small amount of amazement, Kate took in the wooden shingles, white trimmed windows, and cozy looking porch furniture. When Castle opened the car door for her, she stepped out, her eyes still grazing over every inch. She had, of course, seen photos or clips on the news of sprawling mansions in the Hamptons, but in her mind she always pictured those as owned by the ultra-rich. Somehow, in her little more than a year with Castle, she'd forgotten just how wealthy he was.

She could sense heat prickling the back of her neck as her never-satisfied mind wondered briefly why out of everyone he could have chosen, she was the one accompanying him that weekend. In a poor attempt to diffuse her feelings, she glanced over at him and a nervous laugh escaped her lips. "It's like you're rich or something."

He merely shrugged as he retrieved their bags from the trunk. "I do all right. C'mon inside; I'll give you a tour." He nodded for her to follow along as he walked up the front porch steps, unlocked the door, and led the way inside. Kate stepped into the beautiful foyer with cherry wood floors and white painted and trimmed walls and merely shook her head with astonishment. "So where would you like to start? Upstairs, downstairs, or in the back yard?"

Kate skimmed her hands across her forearms nervously. "Actually, um, would you mind if I took a few minutes to freshen up first?"

"Not in the least. C'mon; I'll show you the guest room."

Without missing a beat, he made his way up the stairs with the detective trailing a few steps behind. At the second floor landing, he paused and gave his bag a toss down the hall, informing her over his shoulder the direction of the master suite. He then preceded the opposite direction where a long hall divided the home in half. Midway down it, he stopped and smiled back at her.

"This is your room: the Seashell Room, or so my decorator called it. Sorry Alexis and mother have the only rooms with bathrooms attached, but this is the next best thing: bathroom's right there." He pointed across the hall to a door just a few feet away. "I hope that's okay."

"I think I'll manage," she said with notable sarcasm. Then, she held out her hand for her bag, which he passed over. "I'll be down in a few minutes."

"Take your time—no rush at all." With one more smile, he walked back towards the stairs leaving her with a few moments of peace.

Kate stepped inside the Seashell Room and felt her jaw descend once more; it was beautiful. The walls were painted a soft coral hue, which Kate would have never even considered painting one surface let alone four, but an interior decorator she was not. The white wood queen-sized canopy bed was the central figure in the room, draped in white linens with coral accent pillows. Taking another step into the room she realized where its namesake came from. Each of the three large wall decorations in the room involves seashells in some shape or form, but none were to excess; each was very tastefully done.

She dropped her bag by the foot of the bed and walked over to one of the two windows in the room, pulling back the opaque curtains. The view looked out onto the driveway and from there not much else could be seen due to the large shrubbery blocking the home from the street's view. Still, even the stone inlayed driveway was a sight to be seen. Shaking her head, Kate snagged her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned against the window frame.

Ever since Castle's invitation three weeks earlier, she had almost backed out a million times. That was one of the reasons why she'd said yes almost right away: to commit herself. In the time since, she'd suppressed the urge to find an excuse—any excuse—not to accompany him, which, at times, had been a great struggle. Each time he reminded her about their impending vacation, her gut clench and half a dozen excuses filtered into her mouth. Fortunately, none of them escaped. She'd thought about it, though. In a brief moment of weakness she'd even searched through the on-call logs to see who she could trade shifts with for the holiday weekend, but stopped herself before going any further.

The truth of the matter was: she wanted to be there with him and that fact left her almost paralyzed with fear. Wanting to spend time with someone, wanting a—god help her—relationship. She had never been good at those and when it came to Castle, a man with whom she had a rocky start, it terrified her even more.

She knew without any doubt the only reason she'd been able to conquer her fears was because of their glimpse five years into the future. In the weeks since she saw herself and Castle living as a married couple with a child, she had yet to be able to rationally explain how any of that was possible. Despite this, she had accepted it as fact, which was a testament to just how much the writer and his wild theories had influenced her during their partnership.

Rubbing her hands across her face, Kate crossed the room, stepped out into the hall, and walked to the bathroom. Though she had expected something palatial it was relatively basic, at least compared to everything else. True, the countertop was probably granite, and the tiles lining the floor were probably a bit higher quality than those found at the average Home Depot, but it did not contain anything fancier than the sink, toilet, and a tub shower. For that, she was grateful.

After using the facilities, Kate splashed some cold water on her face and patted it dry with one of the mint green hand towels. She skimmed an index finger under each eye, making sure the liner wasn't too smudged, before resting her hands just outside the sink basin, preparing herself to rejoin the writer for a house tour.

She could do this. She could absolutely totally do this. She could be a normal person with Castle. They could be two normal people—no coworkers, not a writer and his muse, but normal people. They'd done it before. Even more frequently as of late, with their shared meals occurring almost once a day instead of once or twice a week. And, true, this was just the two of them for the next two nights until Martha and Alexis arrived, but that was totally fine.

Maybe if she repeated those sentiments to herself at least a dozen more times she might actually start believing them.

* * *

In Richard Castle's opinion, his four day weekend was starting off spectacularly. Given it was the Friday morning before Memorial Day, their drive to one of New York's most sought after destinations wasn't all that bad. After they'd settled in and he'd played tour guide, he managed to talk Kate into wandering around Main Street and looking into shops before their dinner reservation at his favorite Italian place, Sant Ambroeus.

Of course he always knew they would be good together, but what amazed him even more was how she seemed to genuinely be having a good time. True, she'd been a little stiff at first, but after stopping in the first adorable shop her demeanor brightened and continued to progress through the afternoon—particularly after her first glass of wine with dinner. After their meal, Castle had even managed to snag hold of her hand as they walked back to his car. Hand-holding was a move he was certain would have resulted in his death by bullet not a few months earlier, but she said nothing and accepted his hand without protest.

Now, standing just inside the glass door leading to the back deck, a wine goblet in each hand, Castle observed the gorgeous detective as she leaned against the railing, staring out at the waves lazily lapping at the edge of the bay. The sun had disappeared over the horizon as they drove back from the restaurant and now, forty minutes later, white specks of stars were beginning to kiss the sky. A slow, easy smile crossed his face as he gazed at her, never more amazed that they'd made it as far as they had.

When she accepted his invitation he was surprised, though pleasantly so. Despite their glimpse into the future, he had anticipated her needing a bit more cajoling to agree, yet she had agreed easily—too easily. So easily that he actually anticipated her backing out, particularly after he informed her that due to a schoolmate's party she _absolutely could not miss_ neither Alexis nor his mother would be joining them at the beachfront estate until Sunday.

Though he'd given her ample opportunities to rearrange their plans—change their departure to Saturday instead of Friday to limit their alone time—she seemed unfazed by sticking with the original plan. Despite her insistence, Castle could not help but wonder if this was merely her impeccable poker face coming through. If perhaps she was a bit nervous on the inside. He hoped that she was owing to the fact that he was as well.

The importance of their weekend trip was not lost on the writer, not in the least. Unlike many of the women from his past, this detective was not one to be wooed by opulence and status. While he was certain she appreciated them to some degree, he also knew of her high standards; she was not one who would decide upon a future mate simply by the square footage of his mansion.

During their drive east, Castle considered the many potential outcomes to their weekend and he ultimately decided that whether they ended the weekend as friends, romantic partners or somewhere in between was not up to him. In this instance, he needed to let Kate take the lead. She was, after all, the more hesitant of the two. He only hope that the more time they spent together during those four days, the better he would understand what was going on behind her mysterious hazel eyes.

Stepping out onto the porch, he nudged the door closed behind him and walked up behind his lovely companion. He held out her wine glass and when she did not take it right away, he studied her face more closely. Though she gazed out at the waves, her brow remained wrinkled as though she were deep in contemplation. Nudging her shoulder with his arm, he said softly, "Penny for your thoughts?"

She jumped, startled by his sudden presence. He'd stepped inside fifteen minutes earlier to give his daughter a quick call and grab them a nightcap. Though she normally would have considered the two glasses of wine she had at dinner more than enough, she'd hoped a third would even out her nerves for spending the evening alone with Castle.

She thanked him for the wine and then shrugged off his question. "It's nothing, really."

"Which means it's something." He enticed her with a smile and she gazed out nervously towards the lapping water once more.

With the wine glass cradled between both hands, she skimmed her thumb over the smooth lip before taking a sip. Turning back to him, she prepared to disclose what was on her mind—the same topic that had made an appearance in her mind's eye at least once a day for the prior three weeks. "Do you ever think about it?"

"What?"

"What we saw in VanDanger's machine. The future."

Castle hummed as his eyes skimmed over the sand and seagrass leading out to the black undulating surface of the water. He'd wondered if their little glimpse a half decade forward would be revisited that weekend and it seemed it would be. Truthfully, he had only thought about it once or twice on his own; several more times when wondering how much of a catalyst those depictions had been for Kate agreeing to their weekend away. "Sure. Every once in a while."

"I think about it. I think about a lot. I think about him a lot—Henry." When Castle didn't react to the name, she took a half step away, her cheeks flaming with embarrassment. Never more thankful for the mostly dim light on the porch, she turned away from him and rested her glass against the railing of the porch. "I know it's stupid because it wasn't real, but it felt so real. That makes me sound crazy, right? I feel crazy."

She knew it was wrong—that dwelling only made it harder, more difficult to forget—but she couldn't help it. At least once a day she came across something that reminded her of the blue-eyed little boy. She'd run across a pregnant woman on the street and wonder about her own future pregnancy: had it been smooth sailing or was she a hormonal, food-craving, feet-swelling mess? She'd see children walking home from school and wonder what he would be: a cop, a writer, an astronaut, or something completely different.

And then there was the other "him" from her future: Castle. Each time he brought her coffee she thought about it. Was this their future? Did he make the coffee every morning or did they take turns? When he smiled at her she thought about what it would be like to wake up and open her eyes to see nothing but his face wearing that exact same grin. She lay awake at night wondering how such a future was even possible when the thought of giving up her independence and allowing herself to need someone still paralyzed her with fear.

Castle stepped up beside her as she brushed an errant tear from her cheek bone, hoping he hadn't seen. "You're not crazy, not at all." When she shot him a skeptical side-eye he continued. "There's nothing wrong with thinking about the future, Kate. We all do it. You and I just happen to have a more detailed picture than most."

"Sometimes I just want to get there, be there, but I also don't, because I don't want to miss everything leading up to it. I—sorry," she cut herself off, shaking her head. Yep, now she definitely sounded like a crazy person. "I'm not usually this much of a mess; must be your fault."

Castle merely chuckled at her attempt at deference. He lifted his hand and placed it softly on her shoulder. When she didn't react negatively or move away, he slid it closer to the center of her shoulder blades and began to move it in small, concentric circles. "I understand what you're saying, but I definitely don't feel the same. It's about the journey, not the destination."

He was right; she knew he was right. Truly, if she were to be given the opportunity to leap five years into the future (a feat seemingly more impossible than actually looking into the future, but, hey, that had happened…) she wouldn't take it. It would be tempting—very temping—but she wouldn't do it for she knew she would be doing so out of her own frustrations. Jumping forward in time would mean landing in a place where emotional intimacy didn't scare her and all the hard, stressful work to get her there would be in the past. Yet, the writer was correct in his assessment. It would be all that hard work that made the future worthwhile.

"And for the record," he continued after a moment's silence, "I don't think you're a mess. I actually find your sentiments rather endearing. I like seeing this side of you Beckett."

She let out a light laugh and shook her head, scooping up her wine glass and walking over to the wicker loveseat a few feet away. As she sat down and waited for the writer to join her, she couldn't help but think she liked to see this side of him too: kind, caring, not making a joke every ten seconds. It certainly made it easier for her to see a future with them together when she didn't want to shoot him every other minute.

After he joined her they sat in a companionable silence for the better part of ten minutes, sipping their wine and gazing out at a trio of boats crossing in front of the house. They sat a few inches apart, not touching at all, but neither of them minded. It was nice to just be there, together.

As more time passed, Castle began to review their conversation in his mind, and he decided to ask the thing he'd been wondering about for three weeks. "Beckett?"

"Hmm?"

"I was wondering: assuming I had invited you to the Hamptons for the weekend regardless of whether or not we had the VanDanger case would you have said yes? That is to say: was the look into our future the main catalyst for you agreeing to come out here with me?"

She swirled the remnants of wine in her glass before rotating her body forty-five degrees towards him. "I won't deny the fact that the future glimpse is what made me say yes, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't have said yes if that case never happened."

He sat up a bit straighter. "So you would have come with me?"

"I'm not sure," she answered truthfully.

"All right. Given that, may I be so bold as to assume that meant you had some feelings for me prior to the VanDanger case?" With every cell in his body he resisted the urge to cringe upon posing the question. They had a nearly perfect day together, the last thing he wanted to do was ruin it, but he also didn't want to waste an opportunity for some truthful conversation even if it was wine-fueled.

"Sure." She answered with alarming speed. She let a beat go by before she began ticking off a list with her fingers. "Annoyance. Irritation. Anger. Frustration. Those are all feelings."

Despite her blossoming smile, Castle shot her a perturbed expression. "I'm trying to be serious, Kate."

Her jaw dropped in indignation. "Oh, I'm sorry. Have you never made a joke in a situation when I was trying to be serious?"

"Touché."

Proud of herself for one-upping the jokester, Kate settled back against her seat sitting just a bit closer to him so that their thighs were almost touching. She set her now empty wine goblet aside and began picking at a hangnail on her left thumb. Even if revealing her true feelings for Castle had not been entirely terrifying, she still couldn't have answered his inquiry which much accuracy; she still wasn't sure how she felt about him.

He was a friend and a colleague, but he'd also become much more, especially in the past six months—ever since the Dick Coonan case had dropped into their laps. Saying she never thought about a physical relationship with him would have been a downright lie. She had, right from their first case together, but back then she wasn't interested in being just one notch of many on his bedpost. Now she knew should they cross that physical barrier it would be more than just that, but how much more she still remained uncertain.

Rather than leave his question answered only by a joke, she decided to answer it to the best of her ability. "I'm really not sure, Castle, but I'm glad you invited me here this weekend; I'm having a really good time."

Castle reached over and placed his right hand over her left. Though he considered himself a master of words, he also knew that sometimes they weren't needed. He didn't want to overshadow the importance of Kate's confession with similar sentiments of his own; it simply wasn't necessary. Instead, he was content to sit with her on his porch in the Hamptons and watch the stars shine bright overhead.

* * *

 _The next part will be posted Sunday._


	2. Chapter 2

**Two**

Saturday morning Kate descended the stairs of Castle's Hamptons estate with a notable bounce in her step. Instead of being ripped from sleep by the stringent beeping of her alarm clock, she'd been delicately coaxed from slumber by chirping birds and the distant crash of waves. The canopy bed felt like sleeping on a cloud and, had she not been a guest in Castle's home, she probably would have remained until mid-morning. As it was, she slept well past her regular waking hour of six a.m. (or earlier if she was on shift and a body dropped), so she slid from bed without complaint.

Only when she walked past a hall mirror on the way to the kitchen did she spot the oversized grin plastered across her face. Well, that certainly was a change of pace from her usual morning half-exhausted, half-annoyed expression. Though she never would have predicted it prior to her arrival, Kate was actually looking forward to what spending her Saturday with Castle had in store. One thing was for certain: she was not going to be bored.

The aroma of freshly brewed beans had wafted all the way upstairs and greeted her after her shower, so Kate was practically salivating upon walking into the kitchen and finding the writer leaning back against the granite counter, taking a sip from his own mug. He smiled when he saw her. "Morning."

"Morning." She echoed. He told her to take a seat on one of the kitchen island bar stools and then proceeded with his regular morning duty of providing her coffee. As he retrieved a mug and poured, he warned her to prepare her taste buds, because the brew was a special blend. At first sip, she discovered he had not oversold the java; it was pristine. Cradling her cup as though it were a crowned jewel, she asked the writer, "So did you have something on the agenda for today?"

He hummed as he began to retrieve the makings of breakfast from the refrigerator and pantry. "Well, I don't have anything official planned, but we can really do anything you want. Go for a walk on the beach, go for a swim…"

"Oh." Kate cringed over her mug. "I didn't bring a suit." In preparing for her weekend away, she had reviewed the weather report and upon seeing that the warmest day would be Sunday with a high of only sixty-eight degrees and the remaining days would be overcast and in the mid-sixties at best, she had nixed the idea of swimming. It was, after all, just the beginning of summer. Even if Castle's pool was heated (which she strongly suspected it was), she guessed the air temperature would not make swimming a pleasant experience.

When he deposited a carton of eggs and half gallon of milk on the counter by the stove, he smirked over his shoulder at her. "A suit is not required for the Jacuzzi."

Kate rolled her eyes. "I'm not skinny dipping with you, Castle."

"I'm game if you are."

Kate set her mug down on the counter and stared at him. "Castle. No. That's not how we're seeing each other naked for the first time."

The writer merely shrugged casually as he turned back to the stove. It took all his self-control not to burst out into a grin at Kate's statement. Yes, she's vetoed skinny dipping in the Jacuzzi (not that he really expected her to agree), but she had made reference to a future intimate relationship between them. In his mind, that was fantastic, because it put them both in the same frame of mind.

Keeping with his lackadaisical exterior, he sighed helplessly. "Fine, if that's your decision, but if you change your mind…"

"Not happening, Castle. Besides, isn't it raining anyway?"

"What?!" The writer craned his neck to look out the window above the kitchen sink. Sure enough, dark splotches were beginning to appear on the wood planks of the deck. Clicking his tongue in annoyance he walked over to his phone and scooped it up, clicking immediately on the weather app. "That wasn't in the forecast…"

"It's okay we'll just stay inside—do you have a deck of cards here?"

The writer glanced up and quirked his eyebrow at her. "Are you suggesting strip poker?"

"Castle!"

He grinned. "Couldn't resist, Kate. I have cards…and Scrabble."

She leaned back in her seat and examined him. Her gut told her playing Scrabble with a novelist would end in a hearty defeat. Despite her preference for winning, she could handle losing; however she had learned from prior experience that her partner was not the most sportsmanlike of winners. She imagined that attitude would only be amplified with them playing a game one-on-one. "I feel like I should know better than to play scrabble with a professional writer."

He bobbed his head. "That's true—you will lose miserably."

She laughed and walked over to see what he was preparing for breakfast. "We're both so competitive…is there anything we can play for fun?"

He smiled easily as he returned to the stove. "Any game I play with you will be fun, Kate." Further proof that he actually meant it: his tone was genuine and he never even considered emphasizing certain words to build a double entendre.

"Well then," she said, leaning back against the counter, "let the games begin."

* * *

If someone had previously told Kate she would spend almost four hours playing children's board games and have the time of her life, she probably would have laughed in their face and refused to believe them. Then again, she had never before played board games with Castle. It was, in a word, an experience.

While searching for a deck of cards, they had found a cabinet stuffed with games from Alexis's youth: Sorry, Chutes and Ladders, Hungry Hungry Hippos, and The Game of Life were the first ones they pulled out. Though Kate rolled her eyes at the hippo game—clearly the most childish of the quartet—playing with Castle actually became quite hilarious, and their day only improved from there.

After a viciously competitive round of Sorry, they played The Game of Life where, to no one's surprise, Castle came up with elaborate back stories for each person added to his traveling game piece vehicle. When "Life" threw him a curveball, a tale came right along with it. Soon, Kate's abdomen hurt from laughing so hard.

Each time Kate collapsed on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her belly, Castle's heart took flight with adoration. He wasn't even trying all that hard to be funny. Well, okay, maybe he was hamming it up ten or fifteen percent more than usual—but no more than that! This was genuinely how he, Alexis, and his mother played board games (or any other game, for that matter). The fact that Kate was having such a good time was merely an added bonus.

After eating lunch, they agreed to a few hours of quiet time before dinner. They each retreated to separate reading areas in the expansive home's first floor. Castle stayed with the couch, stuffing all the spare pillows behind his back and sprawling his long legs across the cushions. Kate chose an inviting ivory fabric chair across the room, which was just big enough for her to curl up in, but not large by any means. Though she tried to focus on the novel open in her lap, she was continuously distracted with the man sitting across from her.

Kate studied her partner as though she would later face an examination on his features that would determine her entire future. The way his cerulean eyes skimmed across the page as he read. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled and his lips curled when he came across something amusing. The sweep of his hand lifting to flip the page and then return to his side.

After over a year of partnership, Kate felt as though she knew Castle's movements well. She knew his walk, many of his mannerisms and she'd even begun to anticipate his verbal reaction to certain situations, disturbing as that was at times. Though they were still a long ways off from knowing everything about one another, they knew a lot—certainly far more than most couples did at the beginning of a relationship.

Kate knew Castle both as a man and a partner. She had more than enough information to answer the question, "Can I see myself in a relationship with this man?" The answer was, and probably had been for quite some time, an easy yes. She could see them together, but there was more to it than that; it was more complicated. With their relationship already being what it was, being together was no longer as simple as, "Yeah, let's go to dinner and see where this goes." No, there was much more at stake, especially after their absurd yet very real glimpse into the future.

The question Kate really needed to be asking herself was: "Can you see a future with this man?" Could she see herself spending her days with him, running down leads and catching killers? Could she then see herself spending her nights just as they were now—sitting quietly together? Further, could she see herself curling up in his arms, making plans for the following weekend—the following month—and thinking not just about herself, but about _them_? A three letter response was poised on the tip of her lips, but she wasn't quite ready to say it—yet.

* * *

"So…walk on the beach to watch the sunset?"

The writer smiled at her from his position by the kitchen sink, drying his hands on a dishtowel. Starting at five p.m. they'd entered the kitchen to begin jointly preparing their meal. Though they had a few awkward run-ins at first, they quickly fell into a rhythm that by the end was beginning to feel more like a choreographed dance. As they sat and ate their pasta dish paired with one of Castle's special label red wines, their conversation ranged through an amalgamation of topics, but Kate had no trouble keeping up.

Wiping up the last of the crumbs from the counter with a napkin cupped against her palm, Kate glanced up suspiciously at her partner. "Sunset walk on the beach? Don't get all romantic on me now, Castle."

He placed his hand on his chest, palm flat against his shirt and bowed in her direction. "My apologies. It'll just be a walk between friends. I promise we can stay at least two feet apart at all times if you prefer."

She chuckled before dumping the crumbs and the used napkin into the trash. "I don't think that'll be necessary."

Out on the deck, Kate toed off her shoes and left them by the stairs; she would not need them in the sand. Castle mirrored her actions and the two walked down the tall sea grass lined path towards the surf. Just at the edge of his property, Kate stumbled on a thick mound of sand, not yet used to the uneven shifting surface under her feet. Castle instinctually reached out to steady her, grabbing her hand in the process. He didn't drop it as they continued their trek down the beach and Kate couldn't say she minded.

For the most part they walked in a companionable silence. With each new house they passed, Castle would state what he knew about the owners. It did not surprise her in the least that he knew the majority of his neighbors by name and profession, but she was amused to hear his anecdotes about them.

Just about a mile from his house, Castle slowed his walk to a near standstill. He dropped Kate's hand and angled his body so he could gaze out into the bay, where, despite a healthy cloud cover overhead, the pink hues of the setting sun could be seen. When he stopped all together, the detective stepped up beside him, allowing the lapping water to lick gently at her toes. She studied his face and found him deep in contemplation, but she did not want to break the silence; she wanted to hear what he was going to say in his own time.

Glancing over at her, he spoke softly. "I wanted to thank you, Kate. I know this partnership hasn't always been easy on you, especially in the beginning. I believe that's changed now, but nevertheless I want to thank you for allowing me to join you on your cases; it's meant a lot."

Castle sucked in a deep breath and slipped his hands down into the pockets of his khaki cargo shorts. Skimming his toes across the sand, he began to draw a circular pattern with his big toe. His next confession was proving more difficult than he originally thought. It wasn't as though he expected a negative reaction from his partner—he didn't. He knew she would be kind, as she always was in serious moments. Still, it was something he'd never spoken aloud before and that in itself added trepidation.

"I don't always feel that I deserve the notoriety I have. Sure, I write stories that entertain people, and that's great. I wouldn't change my career but I'm not making a difference—at least, not compared to someone like you. Catching killers, saving lives, doing good for the community—the world. You're actively making a difference and to be even just a small part of that is very important to me."

For a moment, Kate stood speechless at his side, her jaw hanging slack. Catching a glimpse of the writer being serious was unusual, but him being serious about himself? This was a side she'd rarely if ever seen. Furthermore, it wasn't just his confession, or the way his voice made him sound as though he were a young boy, but the substance of his words, which she found to be almost completely untrue.

Reaching out to touch his arm, Kate said, "You do make a difference, Castle. Yeah, you might not be a surgeon performing lifesaving procedures, but that doesn't mean you're not making a difference. There are people out there in dark places who need a light—an escape. You give them that. Reading your books can give them a smile, give them a little bit of hope and that's important too."

Castle swallowed hard as he looked down at her. For the millionth time, she had proven to him just how extraordinary she was. Assuring him not just with conviction, but a softness rarely seen inside the Twelfth Precinct. Her final statement—the way she'd said the word hope—made the skin at the back of his neck prickle. Somehow he just knew she spoke not just of the general populous, but of herself.

How, he wondered, had his words given her that smile, that hope? When? The first guess that popped into his mind was the time around her mother's death, but he couldn't be certain. Feeling an uncomfortable tightness in his chest at the thought of young, scared Kate curled up with _In a Hail of Bullets_ on a chair somewhere just like she had been in his home earlier that day, Castle cleared his throat. "That's kind of you to say detective."

The writer took one step further down the beach, but Kate stopped him, grabbing onto the sleeve of his shirt. She couldn't let him walk away on such a flippant note, not over a topic so serious. She could understand his concerns, feeling as though he didn't make a difference. Many days, when a legal loophole let a criminal go free, or when the suspect evaded her all together, she felt the same, but she had to make him understand how important he was not just to her, but to everyone.

"No, Castle, I'm serious. You don't..." She stopped, the words caught in her throat. Shaking her head, she gazed up at him, her brown eyes directly meeting his blue. "What you do can make all the difference in the world. Please don't ever think otherwise."

Castle fought the urge to make a quip or lighten the mood with all his might. Serious moments meant dealing with the uncertainties bubbling within him, but somehow with Kate looking at him with such—dare he think it—adoration, he didn't mind. Instead, he blinked at her slowly. "Thank you, though I'm certain I'll never be as extraordinary as you, especially given you're one of the most amazing people I've ever met."

Despite the dim twilight, he saw the hint of rose color blossoming over her cheek bones. She dipped her chin and a chunk of hair fell down over her forehead, obstructing her face. "Castle."

Though he'd never know what made him do it, Castle felt an uncontrollable urge to reach out and brush the hair back from her face, so he did. Miraculously, she didn't jump away. Instead, she merely looked up as his fingertips skimmed down her jaw. "You are extraordinary and what's more amazing is you don't even know it." He spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't even see how much you've changed people's lives, made them better. Mine especially."

Gazing up into his eyes as he said lovely things about her Kate felt an invisible string hook around her belly button and draw her in closer. She couldn't have stopped it if she wanted to, which, as she thought about it, she didn't. Slowly, she rose up onto her toes and reached out to lay her fingers over his chest. Just as their faces were drawing nearer, a crack of thunder overhead startled them both.

"Shit!" Castle proclaimed, gazing out over the water where a dark cloud could be seen rolling in. "I thought the rain had stopped!"

"Guess not."

Kate remained so focused on making the mile trek back to the beach house while staying dry that she did not even give the fact that she had nearly kissed Richard Castle a second thought. Instead, her brain was fixated on scurrying over the sand while evading the sharp shells and stones to protect her tender feet. Just when she thought they would make it back safely, the heavens ripped open, immediately dumping them with sheets of rain while more thunder cracked overhead. Instinctually, Kate broke into a run, but slowed as soon as she realized the writer's more sedentary profession would not allow him to keep up with a perp-chasing cop. Instead, she ran backwards in front of him calling out encouragement.

After seven minutes of speedy walking, turned half running the beach house was in sight. Her clothes nearly soaked through, Kate left her partner behind and sprinted the last several hundred feet. She bounded up onto the deck, almost forgetting her shoes in the process, and ran full force into the door. She gripped the handle, turned, and immediately slipped off the immobile surface with her damp hand. Figuring she needed a better grip, she grabbed with both hands and turned, but the handle didn't budge. By this point, the heavy-breathing writer had joined her so she turned to him. "I think it's locked!" she called out over the deafening sound of the torrents of rain smacking the wood.

The writer stepped forward and gripped the handle only to find his partner was indeed correct; the back door was locked. Castle let out a string of curses under his breath as he walked back towards the sand, his shoulders hunched in a fruitless attempt to keep the rain from rolling down his back beneath his shirt.

"Are we locked out?"

"No." He informed her, pointing towards the side of the house. "We'll have to go around to the garage."

Kate trailed behind her partner as he walked the long way around the side of the house, through the pool area, and back onto the sidewalk leading to the driveway. By the time they made it to the paved stones and Castle began punching the code into the garage's entry key pad, the rain had slowed to a more casual drizzle. It was too late, though; they were both already completely drenched.

As the garage door opened, Castle ducked inside and apologized to his partner. She followed and brushed him off. "Don't worry about it; I haven't run through the rain in ages!"

Wringing out the bottom of his t-shirt, Castle gazed at the detective with surprise. To an outside observer, she looked like a mess. Her hair was plastered down to the skin around her face at odd angles; the mascara on her eyes formed a shadow on her cheeks. Yet, she wore a grin on her face and that was…surprising. Surely, the Kate Beckett he'd met a year ago would have been furious, but this one didn't seem to mind. "You're not mad?" he asked, just to be sure.

A light chuckle escaped her lips. If she had her choice, obviously she would have preferred to stay dry, but the day was warm enough that an impromptu bath wasn't that big of a deal. Though she was annoyed for the first minute, the longer they hurried through the storm the funnier it became. Now, looking at Castle's previously perfectly coiffed hair sticking to his forehead caused a giggle to escape her lips. "Why would I be?"

"Well, for starters, you're soaked to the skin." Castle grabbed his t-shirt at the shoulders and attempted to peel the cotton object from his flesh, but it was too stuck down. Looking at the detective, she seemed to be in a similar state with her mint green top that—oh shit!—had become rather see-through due to the rain. In fact, not only could he see the outline of her bra, but her erect nipples were visible as well. Castle quickly diverted his eyes to the ground as some inappropriate thoughts crossed into his mind.

Kate merely shrugged. "But this was fun and...romantic kind of?" she added without thinking.

He guffawed. "More like romantic comedy."

"If it was a romantic comedy, you would have kissed me in the rain back there." The words escaped her lips before she even realized. As he stared at her his jaw opened an extra inch and she could feel some fire returning to her cheeks. Quickly, attempting some damage control, she began, "I mea-" But her thought was lost to another loud clap of thunder.

At Castle's suggestion, the duo hurried inside where they were met with a blast of air conditioning. Normally, Kate would have welcomed a cooler indoor temperature, except in her present state it caused her to shiver instantly. Castle shooed her towards the stairs telling her to get changed and dry off; meanwhile, he would make tea.

* * *

Ten minutes later, wearing yoga pants and an NYPD zip up hoodie, Kate returned to the kitchen of the beach house. Her hair, still hopelessly wet despite squeezing it with a towel, was rolled into a messy bun at the back of her head. Other than throwing her shorts, t-shirt, and undergarments over the shower rod to dry, the only thing Kate had done was wash the mascara shadows from beneath her eyes. She hadn't felt like showering the rain-kissed feeling from her skin. Actually, she rather liked it.

Her bare feet padded quietly across the wooden floorboards as she approached the kitchen. There, she found the writer filling a tea kettle beneath the faucet tap and then placing it atop the stove burner. He, too, had changed into a t-shirt wearing the Green Lantern emblem and blue nylon gym shorts. Hovering in the edge of the doorway, she watched him adjust the heat on the stove burner and then lift his left hand to comb through his still-damp hair. This sight caused a fluttering in gut and she sucked in a breath involuntarily.

 _Damn_. She was attracted to him, wasn't she? Really attracted. Like, fighting-the-urge-to-run-over-and-wrap-her-legs-around-him attracted.

Had the thunder not cracked overhead at that very moment, Kate was certain she would have kissed Castle on the beach as he stroked his fingers over her cheek. And if he had kissed her in the rain on the porch romantic-comedy-style she didn't think she would have minded. Well, maybe a little bit; that downpour had pelted her skin with surprising and uncomfortable force.

Prior to her weekend trip, Kate had promised herself that she was not going to force anything between herself and the writer. Nor would she feel obligated to rush their relationship simply because they were going to be alone in a beach house for forty-eight hours. If things between them were going to work out in the long run, they had to progress at a natural pace, but she honestly wasn't sure how much longer she would be able to hold off on kissing him. She _really_ wanted to kiss him, but managed to regain her emotional control by reminding herself that once they kissed, there would be no going back.

Taking a final deep breath to calm her fluttering nerves, Kate stepped into the room and greeted him with a casual, "Hey."

His head turned in her direction and he stopped breathing instantly. There she was: makeup-less face, hair swept back, dressed just as casually as ever, but just as gorgeous. More so, even. The way she looked reminded him of the blissful week she'd stayed with him in the loft after her apartment blew up. He loved that version of her: casual, basic, just Kate. Of course her makeup and fitted clothing accentuated her beauty and he doubted a scenario existed in which she would not be breathtaking, but Casual Kate was far and above his favorite version of her.

"God, you're beautiful." He breathed out and—wait—shit! Had he said that aloud!? "Um, ah…" He stammered quickly, but no logical words came out so he did the only thing he could think of: he turned his back to her and pretended it hadn't happened. "Tea will be, um, ready shortly."

A grin broke out on Kate's face at his adorable, flustered reaction. _Ah, hell—screw it!_ She thought. What was the use in delaying the inevitable?

"Castle."

"Yeah?"

"Turn around."

He did so slowly as though she might have a weapon trained on him. Instead, he saw an expression of pure amusement. She took a step closer to him and he watched as her fingers fumbled with the small loop of string hanging off the zipper of her hoodie. "You should probably just kiss me."

Castle felt his entire body flush. Damn—how had the room temperature suddenly spiked fifteen degrees? "I, ah." He swallowed hard and then sucked in oxygen through his nose. Her previously hazel eyes had turned a deep chocolate brown as they'd become saturated with desire and, really, who was he to argue with a beautiful-beyond-words detective?

Lifting his left hand he reached out to skim it beneath her jaw, tilting her head up as he did so. Both in their bare feet, he needed to dip his chin quite a bit to make up for their height differences, but he didn't mind. As soon as his lips brushed against hers for the first time he knew everything—ever single minute of the prior year—was worth it.

Kate's fingertips came to rest on his sides as their lips brushed tentatively together, both of them testing the waters. Castle leaned back giving their mouths barely an inch of separation, but when his nose brushed against hers, she knew one barely-there kiss would never be enough. Curling her fingertips against his side, she parted her lips and captured his mouth as her own.

Though her boldness surprised him, he felt no urge to complain. Instead, he drew her closer, a moan escaping into her mouth. Their kisses continued for another few seconds until the whistle of a tea kettle made an unwelcome appearance in the kitchen.

Grumbling, Castle forced himself to turn back to the stove and pull the kettle from the burner. He shut his eyes and exhaled a long slow breath. Every inch of his body thrummed with desire for Kate Beckett. It had since the day they met and now that their first kiss had charted off the Richter scale, he very much doubted it would ever stop.

Clearing his throat, he said, "So, um, tea?" Without waiting for her response, he poured and equal amount of boiling water into two mugs and plopped a tea bag in each simultaneously. Turning back to her, he passed over one mug, which she took with a thank you. Then, they each leaned back against the counter, cradling their mugs in silence, neither one bothering to hide the grins plastered on their faces.

* * *

 _A/N: The next update will be posted Saturday._


	3. Chapter 3

**Three**

Kate Beckett awoke Sunday morning with a grin so wide her cheeks actually ached, but she didn't mind; she didn't mind one bit.

The prior night after their kiss, she and Castle had retreated to the couch to watch a movie on HBO. Though they'd begun the film on separate cushions, as it progressed they slid nearer to each other until Castle's arm was draped over her back and her head was resting on his shoulder. At midnight, he walked her up to the guest room, kissed her again, and bid her goodnight. In Kate's mind, nothing could have been more perfect.

Despite being in her pajamas still, the smell of roasting beans was too alluring, so she decided to have a cup before her shower. She skipped down the stairs like a child on the morning of their birthday, excited to see if they had received the new bike they asked for, except, instead of a bike, Kate sought a rich cup of the world's most precious substance (coffee, of course.)

When she stepped into the kitchen, the cheerful morning greeting was stolen from her throat by the sight of the writer on the phone, speaking in hushed tones. When he spotted her, he gave her a small smile and held up one finger as a polite request for her to wait. He ended his call not twenty seconds later and then greeted her.

"Good morning," she echoed. "Was that your mother? Or Alexis? Are they on their way?" Though at one point the prior night Kate had felt a small thrum of sadness at the prospect that her and Castle's alone time was coming to an end, she realized it was for the best. Honestly, with more one-on-one time after their kiss who knew what trouble they would get themselves into!

"Actually, no." The writer tossed his phone down on the counter and turned back to the fancy—and expensive—coffee maker. "It seems as though Alexis got a touch of food poisoning at her party last night."

Kate's smiled dropped away as she rounded the kitchen island. "Oh, is she okay?"

He bobbed his head. "Through the worst of it, Mother thinks, but obviously not prepared to jump in a car for three hours."

Kate cringed inwardly. She couldn't say she blamed the girl. If she was Alexis, she definitely would not want to be out of sprinting range from a bathroom. "Of course not. So they're not coming at all?"

"Not sure yet. She wants to wait and see how she feels around midday. According to Mother, she really doesn't want to miss the fireworks." When Castle smiled at the detective, she returned his expression along with a light chuckle. _Like father, like daughter,_ she thought.

Once again, he poured the coffee when it was ready before he posed the question, "Breakfast? Thought it should be something light since we have that picnic at noon."

Kate hummed as she sipped her coffee—a different blend than the day before, her connoisseur palate noted, but equally as lush. "Sounds fine to me. I'll make it if you want."

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it; just go sit. My iPad is there; you can read the news if you want." He nodded towards the end of the island with the bar stools and Kate took a step in that direction, but before she could move too much further, he reached out and snagged her arm. "Wait wait—just one thing."

* * *

The prior evening after bidding her goodnight, Castle stepped into the master suite, shut the door, and stood there, marveling at his amazing luck. Kate Beckett was an extraordinary woman: beautiful, strong, kind, and bad-ass to name just a few of her astounding qualities. She was a woman to be treasured, explored, and treated as though she were the singularly most important person in the universe.

At the start of their partnership, he was fuel mainly by his lust for her, but the more he knew her, the more they worked together day after day, he knew she deserved far better. Kate Beckett needed a man, not a man-child running around fulfilling his youthful fantasies of playing cops and robbers. For her, he would commit to being that man; commit to making her as happy as she made him.

Kissing her removed any lingering doubts from his mind. Their future—the one shown to them by a wild-haired mad scientist—was set; destined. And Castle had absolutely no desire to stop it.

Drawing her in, he leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to her lips, greeting her in the first of what he hoped to be many lazy Sunday mornings in the Hamptons together. "Sorry, just give you a proper good morning…and to make sure last night wasn't a dream."

"It wasn't." She assured him. Then, she kissed him again before retreating to the other end of the island. Castle watched her walk with a soft smile playing on his face. Coffee, the Sunday morning news, and Kate Beckett sitting in his kitchen? Castle doubted there was a better way to start the day.

* * *

In the early afternoon, Kate sat on the patio of Castle's next door neighbors, the Shultz's, casually skimming her fingers up and down the neck of her beer bottle, collecting the condensation on her fingers and letting it roll down her hand. She was seated around a table with six women—all wives from the houses surrounding Castle's on the bay—as they chattered on about their children and their summer plans. Kate did not have much to add to the conversation, but she didn't mind; she was focused elsewhere.

Shortly before noon, Castle and Kate made the trek from his mansion to the one next door—or so she worded it. They traveled on the street instead of the beach, which made their journey longer because of the layout of the neighborhood, but walking hand in hand with the writer she didn't mind. As they walked, he explained that he'd known the Shultz's for years. They had two children—one a year older than Alexis, one a year younger—and the three of them had often played together during their time on the beach. Robert Shultz was a neurosurgeon in the city, his wife Charlotte a lawyer at a firm owned by her family for generations. Thus, when Kate found their home to be equally opulent as Castle's she was not surprised.

Kate liked the Shultz's. They seemed polite and friendly and expressed their disappointment that Castle's daughter and mother were unable to attend their soirée. Charlotte in particular seemed interested in talking with her about her profession and introducing her to the other wives as party guests continued to arrive.

Standing on their back deck beside Castle, drink in her hand, breeze ruffling their skirt of her floral dress Kate felt…well, girly. And light; stress free. All things she rarely felt back in Manhattan, which made her think maybe she could get used to spending weekends in the Hamptons. Well, probably not every weekend, but some weekends.

As they watched Robert at the grill, they chatted and laughed. At one point, Castle reached out and put his arm around her back, giving her waist a squeeze. She smiled and leaned in to him without a second though. The move—so simple, so basic—made her feel for the first time that she was his girlfriend. More so: that she could see herself as his girlfriend, his partner in life not just at work, and it didn't scare her. Not even a little bit.

She could see it—their future. Perhaps in five years they would be the ones hosting the Memorial Day events. Castle would be at the grill, flipping burgers and hissing out curses every time he burned his hand. She would be beside him, laughing and rolling her eyes, a babbling baby boy on her hip. The most incredible part was that future was beginning to feel like more of a certainty with each passing day.

Now, an hour and a half after their arrival, she swallowed the remnants of her second beer and gazed over at the writer as he plowed through his fourth hot dog of the day. This was, of course, in addition to the chips, salsa, macaroni salad, and two brownies he'd already consumed; no wonder he'd wanted a light breakfast. He appeared to be in a very heated discussion about something with a trio of men. Though it was hard to hear over the crash of the waves and the squeals of the children playing down on the sand, he thought she heard mention of batting averages and assumed they were speaking about baseball.

Kate watched as Castle crumpled the napkin in his hands and tossed it into the nearby trash, the muscles in his forearms showing plainly through this action. She snagged her bottom lip with her teeth as her eyes grazed over him. He was wearing a light blue button down shirt, the sleeves rolled up above his elbows and the same light colored cargo shorts as the day before. And flip flops—Castle was wearing flip flops. While she'd initially looked at them with amusement, now she liked them. They made him seem casual. Normal.

He raised his right hand to bump his sunglasses a bit higher on his nose and skim his hand through his hair and—damn. There it was again—that fluttering deep in her belly—only this time it was accompanied by a warm sensation traveling southward. She groaned inwardly as she switched her legs so that the right was crossed over the left in a futile attempt to distract herself from what she knew was happening, but not quite prepared to accept. She wanted him—good lord, did she want him.

Kate sucked in a deep breath and folded her hands in her lap, trying to calm her humming heart. She wanted to take things slow, she wanted to do things right, but my god wasn't a year of getting to know each other more than enough? They had had such a wonderful weekend so far, she just didn't want it to stop.

Picking up her beer bottle she walked it over to the recycle bin, which was located conveniently behind the writer. As she passed him, she skimmed her hand down his arm. He looked at her and she winked.

* * *

Castle stepped away from his conversation and over to the lady detective who wore a pleasant though slightly peculiar expression. "Hey. You okay?"

"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

"It's just," he darted his eyes towards the cluster of ladies and then back to her, "you kind of look like if you have to hear one more conversation about a garden party you're going to pull your gun out and shoot someone."

She let out a breathy chuckle. "No, it's not that. I was just thinking."

"Sorry, Detective—no thinking allowed on vacation." He informed her and she offered a smile before lowering her gaze to the ground. Something was different, Castle determined. He wasn't sure what, but something—something she definitely wasn't going to confess to him at a party full of strangers. "You, um, wanna get out of here?"

Her head snapped up, eyes wide. "Oh, no—I'm fine Castle. You're still talking and-"

"No, it's fine." He patted his belly and sighed. "I've had enough food to warrant a nap."

"Only if you're sure."

He nodded and they began to make their rounds, saying goodbye and thanking their hosts for the event. Once again, they joined hands to walk the quarter mile between houses. As they walked, Castle thought of what possible reasons there could be for his partner's contemplative expression. He knew the Hamptons wives could be a lot to handle, especially for Kate. He had full confidence in her ability to interact with anyone from the lowest of crooks to the wealthiest of victims, but Hampton's wives could certainly be a breed of their own and he doubted very much their interests aligned with Kate's at any point.

When he unlocked the front door and let them inside, he dropped his jaw, preparing to ask her what insane things she'd overheard that afternoon, but she beat him to it, asking instead, "Were you serious about taking a nap?"

"Oh, um, maybe? Why? Did you have something else in mind?"

She stepped up in front of him so that their toes were nearly touching. She placed her hands at the center of his chest and rubbed them in small circles while looking up at him with a hooded gaze. "Maybe. But it still involves a bed."

Castle let out a noise somewhere between a squeak and a gasp. What the—Was she—Could she—Oh god!

A proud smile crossing her face, Kate skimmed her hands up and over his shoulders and linked her fingers behind his neck. Using this position as leverage, she pulled herself up and covered his mouth with hers.

"Kate." He breathed out, breaking their kiss. "I—I know that something is happening here bu-" He was cut off by her mouth again, that time capturing his bottom lip and sucking on it before nipping lightly with her teeth. His hands landed at her waist with a groan. "You're making it very hard for me to be a gentleman and insist that we take things slow."

She skimmed her nose against his and whispered out, "I know," before kissing him again. That time, her hands traveled to the row of buttons on his shirt. She popped the top two and slipped her hands beneath the fabric to run across his bare chest. That time, he growled at her.

"Kate."

She took a half step back and looked up at him with pleading eyes. "Rick, it's okay; I want this."

"I—shit, okay. Hold on." His brain barely functioning with all the blood rushing on a southward trajectory, he pulled his phone from his pocket to check for any messages. If they were going to do this, they were sure as hell going to do it right.

"What are you doing?"

"Checking to see if Mother and Alexis are going to interrupt us. Ah," he proclaimed upon reading the text messages, "they left about twenty minutes ago."

"So we have a few hours," Kate concluded.

He shot her a cheeky grin. "Think that'll be enough?"

Her expression mirrored his as she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the stairs. "For one round, at least."

* * *

"Beckett? Would you like a chair? Or do you want to sit on the blanket with me?"

Kate pulled her attention from her conversation with the redheads and turned so she could see the writer. He stood at the edge of the stairs leading down to the sand, two beach chairs in one hand, a folded blanket clutched in the other. "Oh, um, blanket's fine. Do you want any help?"

"No, I got it; thanks."

The last glimpse of twilight disappeared from the sky when Kate sat back down on the chair across from Martha. The elder woman had been regaling her with theatrical tales ever since her arrival a few hours earlier. Like her son, Martha did not shy away from the dramatic by any means; she was equally as amusing and charming.

Kate was listening, she really was, but she kept getting distracted every time Castle would walk by and wink at her or when he would skim his fingers down her forearm in a way that gave her chills. She would be forced to bit her lip and hold her breath in order to forget the way his touch made her heart beat just a little bit faster.

The two hours they'd spent in his bed that afternoon were still so fresh in her mind. She only had to close her eyes to remember the feel of his lips against her neck or the way his hands skimmed over the most intimate places of her body. It had been, as the writer had said, well worth the wait and made her glad they hadn't waited any longer.

Making love to Castle was different. Perhaps it was because for the first time she knew the future. She knew that was her last first time with someone—ever. She and Castle would be making love to each other for decades to come and that should have made it scarier, or ramped up the pressure she felt, but it didn't. Instead, it only made her more excited for the future to come. And, okay, a little bit nervous, because I had been _so_ good—so very, very good.

"You ladies comin'?"

Castle's voice interrupted their conversation and the trio of women stood and made their way out onto the beach. Just on the other side of the grass barrier, Castle had set up their seating arrangement: two beach chairs with the blanket on the far left side. As the red heads took their seat, Kate gazed out into the bay at the ships docked there, all ready to watch the overhead show kicking off the unofficial start of summer.

After several minutes' observation, Kate dropped to her knees on the blanket and sat down on one hip her fingers just a few inches from the writer's. She smiled at him and, when he caught her eye, he gave her a peculiar expression. "What are you doing over there?"

"Oh I…" Her voice drifted off as she glanced tentatively back at his mother and daughter. They were speaking to one another and unaware of what was transpiring on the blanket.

"Kate," he said gently, encouragingly. He scooted more towards the center of the blanket and opened his legs into a wide V-shape before nodding for her to come closer. Following his lead, she stood and stepped over his right leg so she could sit with her back against his chest. He closed his legs around her hips and pressed a kiss into the back of her head.

Kate's eyes glanced toward Alexis and Martha, who still appeared unaware. Silly—it was silly for her to feel nervous about sitting this way in front of them. He'd kissed her as they were cleaning up dinner and she was pretty sure they had seen. They had to have known what was going on and clearly had not treated her any differently. Still, she was nervous, because being Castle's girlfriend wasn't just about the two of them; it was about all of them.

"Are you excited for the fireworks?" the writer asked gently in her ear.

She dipped her shoulder and craned her neck backwards, doing her best to look at him despite their front-to-back position. "Because I haven't seen fireworks before."

He ignored her sarcastic tone. "Fireworks are always exciting, Beckett."

* * *

Castle caught a glimpse of her mildly amused smile as she turned to face the water once more. Her head shook gently as she pressed her back against his chest and lifted her hands to rest atop his knees, skimming her fingers gently over the patella in small circular patterns. Despite the warm night air, Castle felt chills.

 _Kate_.

She was really there, in his arms. They had really made love just a few hours earlier and she had been one hundred percent correct: he had no idea how incredible their coupling would be. He had tried not to have too many preconceived ideas about what their first time would be like, but given his profession and thus his nature it was difficult. If anything he would have expected her to take control and insist on being in charge, but she hadn't. She had been amazingly sweet and a little bit cautious in the beginning, which he loved.

In fact, love was his overwhelming emotion during their two hours beneath the sheets. He knew he was undoubtedly falling in love with the detective. Given everything they shared throughout their partnership and how he'd felt when he watched her apartment blow up, he knew he was already in deep, but being with her that way sealed his fate. He was falling hard and fast and he couldn't have been happier about it.

* * *

Shortly after nine p.m. the colorful explosions began lighting the sky. Unlike shows for New Year's or the Fourth of July, this one was relatively short leaving Kate disappointed when Martha and Alexis stood and began gathering up their chairs. She would have been willing to sit in Castle's embrace for much longer, but perhaps it was for the best; with the sun out of the sky, the air had cooled significantly.

On their short walk back to the house, Alexis announced she was going to bed as she had not slept very well the night before. Martha also agreed to turn in early, leaving the new couple alone in the kitchen. They stared at each other for several moments before sharing a breathy laugh.

"Maybe we should go to bed, too." The writer suggested.

A sly smile crossed Kate's face. "I could be ok with an early bedtime."

He leaned over and smeared a kiss onto her forehead while walking towards the back door to make sure everything was locked up for the night. "Go and get your pj's and whatever you need from your room; I'll be up in a minute."

"Oh, um…" When her voice drifted off, he looked back to see that she stood at the edge of the kitchen, wringing her hands together.

"What's wrong?"

She shook her head. "Nothing, really just…is that what you want? Me to spend the night with you when your mother and daughter will, you know, see…"

Castle almost laughed. "Why would that matter? I mean, they'll see you spending the night when we go back home anyway, why would now be different?" He watched her eyes turn towards the ground and her hands clench tighter together. Taking two steps forward he turned his tone very gentle. "That is what you want, isn't it Kate? This wasn't just a one-time thing, right?"

Surely no—no. He absolutely refused to entertain the idea. Maybe if they hadn't seen the future. Maybe if they had been going along as they were and he asked her to the Hamptons and she said yes. Maybe if they'd fallen into bed then she would have shied away or just full out ran from what they had. But not now; not since they knew. She wouldn't—she couldn't!

* * *

Kate let out a heavy exhale and stepped forward. She tucked some hair behind her ear and looked up at the very nervous looking writer. "Today was perfect, Castle—amazing. This whole weekend has been; I'm really disappointed it has to end."

"But it doesn't. It doesn't, Kate."

She half-laughed. "Some of us have real jobs, Castle; I can't just stay at the beach all summer."

"No, no—I mean." He huffed out a breath obviously trying to collect his thoughts. He stepped forward and placed his hands gently atop her shoulders. "We can still be together when we're back in the city. Yeah, it won't be just like this, but it'll be just as good as long as we're together. That's what you want isn't it?"

She hummed and walked out of his embrace. She brought her hands up to skim across her face, trying to find the words to explain the battle going on inside her chest. After raking her fingers down her scalp, she looked back to him. God, why was she always such a mess when it came to things like this? "This is it for me—the moment I usually try and run, just when things are getting serious. And they are getting serious, aren't they?"

He dipped his chin. "If by serious you mean that we're exclusive: yes, that's how I thought of this moving forward."

She knew there was no other way for them, not after what they'd seen. And she knew that somehow they would make it. That five years from then they'd be singing their son to sleep, but knowing it was real and being brave enough to live it were two very different things.

"I'm not…I'm not the easiest person to get to know—I imagined you've figured that out by now." She wrapped her arms around her body and the writer offered a reassuring smile. "I'm not good at letting people in and when things get serous I feel the need to run. Or, at least, keep one foot out the door in case I need a quick get away, but I don't want that. Not with this. Which means I might not be very good at it…" She confessed with a rather tragic laugh.

Kate would not jump to qualify herself as a terrible girlfriend. She never cheated on anyone and was always thoughtful and considerate with any man she considered herself to be dating, but due to her fears of intimacy, her relationships never went very far or lasted very long. She was great a dinners, movies, parties, and even conversations as long as they did not focus on her—her feelings, her past. Sharing pieces of herself, sharing _herself_ was always something she struggled with, but she wanted to change that with Castle.

He already was different.

With a steady gaze never leaving hers, the writer said, "That's why I'm here, Beckett—to keep you on your toes."

Kate couldn't help but laugh. "Keeping her on her toes" was certainly one way to describe their partnership over the prior year. He had proven time and time and again that he would be by her side no matter the scenario, so she had no reason not to believe him. "I'm going to hold you to that."

"Good. So…are you in?" She had to say yes; that was the only option in his mind. She stared up at him for five seconds then ten and his heart fluttered faster and faster until the smile spread across her cheeks.

"Yeah, Castle. I'm in."

He leaned down and brought his lips to hers, giving her a sound kiss. She wrapped her arms around his back and held him tightly. She knew the coming months wouldn't be easy for her—for them—but they would get through them. They had to. A spark had been lit inside her and she knew from that point forward it would never go out.

* * *

 _A/N: There will be one more part after this. It will be posted next Saturday_

 _Thanks for all your reviews! I'm glad everyone is enjoying this series._


	4. Chapter 4

_A/n: This chapter is dedicated to writingonthecastlewalls - without her encouragement and enthusiasm for the "Henry 'verse" I wouldn't have written this final chapter._

* * *

 **Four**

 _-Five Years Later-_

"Castle! _Castle_!"

Kate Beckett was calm. She was absolutely calm. Mostly calm. Borderline not calm.

If she'd read it on one blog, she'd read it on a dozen: do not yell at your spouse in front of your child. As a general rule, she agreed with that. However, when said child was crying and said husband wasn't listening what other option did she have? A slightly elevated tone of voice simply wasn't cutting it.

Shifting the wailing boy from one hip to another, Kate grunted. She cradled the back of his head with her hand and dusted a kiss across his forehead. She continued to bounce him as much as she could, but she'd been bouncing for the better part of ten minutes and her arms and back had just about enough.

"It's okay, Henry. Shh, it's okay." He seemed to be ignoring her hushing and she fought the urge to roll her eyes. Gee, something else those mommy blogs were wrong about.

Henry was a good baby; he really was. As her belly swelled, she read more horror stories than she cared to think about: colic, allergies, and babies that were simply fussy all the time for no particular reason. But, when her little guy arrived, he was just as cheerful as could be. She doubted they had more than a handful of truly sleepless nights in the prior six months and perhaps only a few more miserable days. This, as it happened, was becoming one of them.

Kate winced when she heard a hiss sprouting from the nearby grill. Craning her head, she could see the flames beginning to lick the edges of the meat resting precariously on the edge of the metal surface, juices dripping down into the fire and causing orange spurts to spike out of the secure grill enclosure. Great. Now the burgers were burning. So much for the fantastic first Castle Family Memorial Day Barbeque. One patty in particular was about to flambé itself and with the baby in her arms there was nothing she could do about it.

Enough was enough.

"CASTLE!"

She grunted and took two steps towards the edge of the deck while her son let out yet another piecing wail. Glancing down at him, she saw actual tears streaming from his eyes. A pang of self-hatred shot through her heart and she cradled his face to her chest. Why didn't motherhood come with a better instruction manual? For that matter: why didn't being a wife?

"What?"

The annoyed and child-like voice of her husband grated on her very last nerve as he jogged into her view from his previous position on the beach. He pushed his sunglasses up further on the bridge of his nose and continued the movement upwards, combing his fingers through loose strands of hair. Normally, such a move would have caused a fluttering in her belly or, at the very least, a smile. At that moment, though, she was fueled by too much frustration to notice.

Gritting her teeth, she spoke with very sharp controlled words. "Your son is screaming and lunch is burning. Please come and deal with one so I can deal with the other."

"Shit!"

"Castle!"

"I mean shoot—shoot!" he corrected as he bounded up onto the deck, his flip flops making loud slapping noises against the wood planks. He hurried to the grill, snagged a spatula and saved a patty from a fiery inferno at the very last second. "No worries, Beckett; the burgers are fine. What's wrong with our little guy there?"

"I don't know." She grunted, hoisting him up a bit further on her hip. "I'm hoping he just needs changed."

With their meal no longer in danger of going up in smoke, Kate scooted inside and made her way to the laundry room, where a table typically meant for folding clothes had been turned into Henry's first floor changing table ever since their arrival. Not bothering to check first she ripped off his diaper only to find it completely dry. Her shoulders wilting, Kate stared down at her unhappy child. Well, shit.

"Henry, Henry—what's the matter, huh?" she cooed at him. This was definitely one of those days she wished his coos and cries could be translated into actual words she could understand. She would do anything in the world to fix what ailed him, but she had to know what it was first!

After swathing him in a fresh diaper, Kate crossed the house and shut herself in the den where they would have some privacy. He had just eaten an hour earlier in preparation for their arriving guests, but he was getting hungry more often the bigger he became. And, quite frankly, she was out of ideas.

Once the pillows were sufficiently arranged on the couch, she sat down and offered him her breast. Thankfully, he latched on and, for the first time in ten minutes, his crying ceased. Sending a silent prayer heavenward, Kate rocked him gently and brushed the tracks of tears from his cheeks with the pad of her thumb.

With a slow exhale, Kate closed her eyes and leaned back against the sofa. Without a doubt, these quiet, intimate moments of motherhood were her favorite: breastfeeding, Henry falling asleep on her chest or in her arms, the way his pudgy hand closed around her fingers when he sat in her lap. She wouldn't have traded them for anything in the world.

* * *

"Hey there's my little guy." Castle beamed when his wife returned with a smiling boy on her hip. He now wore a tan, floppy baby sunhat. A gift from Kate's aunt, he'd originally laughed at its oversized nature—and at the fact that during Alexis's youth, it had practically taken rope and duct tape to keep a hat on her head. The little boy, who was almost an exact carbon copy of his father at the same age, differed. He never minded the hat—at least, not until it became a plaything.

"Was he wet?"

"Hungry, apparently. Or maybe just needed comfort. He nursed for about five minutes and now he's fine."

"Excellent." Castle hung the spatula on the edge of the grill and approached Kate with his hands outstretched. She passed over the baby and he brushed a kiss against her cheek as he cradled his son. "Are you ready for the party, Henry? Huh? Huh?" He encouraged before lifting the boy up and blowing a raspberry onto his belly.

"He just ate."

"I know." He ignored his wife's warning and did it again.

"If he spits up on you…"

Castle shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time." He cradled the boy in the crook of his arm and flashed his wife a wink. It was a common source of amusement between them that if Henry was going to spit up on someone it would undoubtedly be his father; he had soiled Castle's clothing at least twice as often as Kate's—if not more.

As Henry played with his toes, Castle eyes grazed out across the walkway and adjoining beach. A handful of their neighbors were involved in a friendly round of volleyball. Among them, Alexis and her friend Cash.

No, not friend. _Boyfriend_.

Despite its validity, the word left a sour taste in the writer's mouth. Cash had been around for a few months—since Valentine's Day, as it happened. His daughter seemed happy and for that he was thankful. His wife and mother both liked the boy and he trusted their judgement. Still…there was just something about him…

"Down boy."

The wise voice of his wife pulled Castle from his grumblings. "I just…how do we even know this guy is who he says he is?" Glancing to the side, he caught her rolling her eyes so he continued with his crazy, mystery-writer-mind fueled theories. "You know which cup is his right." He nodded towards the line-up of red Solo cups on the deck's railing.

"Why?"

"So you can run his prints."

"CASTLE."

"I'm serious."

She planted her hands at her hips a she looked at him. "He's a twenty-two year old boy, not a felon. This is not the first boyfriend she's had and you were…relatively chill about the others."

He huffed out a breath and shifted his youngest as he continue to babble a fascinating tale to his feet. "But she seems serious about this one…"

Kate shrugged. "He's nice, you should talk to him."

Castle walked back towards the grill and checked on the food. Seeing a few hot dogs beginning to char, he passed Henry back to Kate and scooped up the spatula. As he dealt with the food, an idea hit him. "Oh, I know—when we get back to the city, I'll ask him to lunch and then we can swing by-"

"You're not interrogating him at the twelfth, Castle."

His jaw dropped as he turned to look at her. How did she always know! It was uncanny.

…or explainable by a six-and-a-half year partnership, five of which they spent in an intimate relationship.

"Fine."

* * *

Kate chuckled at her husband's tone. He was going to pout about this; she knew it, which meant she had to nip it in the bud before it got too bad. "Here. Let me plate those. You forget about Cash and take this handsome man to tell our guests the food is ready."

She swapped the baby for the spatula and began to gather the serving trays as Castle walked towards the beach telling his son he was only allowed to marry a woman as wonderful as his mother.

"…which means you'll be single forever. That's unfortunate for you…"

Kate chuckled and shook her head as she began to put the burgers and hot dogs on separate trays. Though she tried to do so quickly so none of the meats would burn, she couldn't stop her gaze from drifting off towards the sand. She watched her husband kiss his son's head and hug him tight as he walked off towards the beach. As it often did when bearing witness to such an act, Kate's chest tightened.

Richard Castle was an amazing father. Kate knew it almost from the day she met him. He was kind, generous, and selfless. It was those qualities—among many others—that first fed the faintly glowing embers of their partnership turned friendship turned romance. She loved her husband very much, but watching him with their son made her love him a thousand times more than she ever imagined possible.

* * *

 _A/N: Thank you all so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed this sequel to "A Glimpse." I do intend to write more from this universe, but I can't promise when. I do have at least 3 more shorts outlined, though. So...until then!_

 _PS - For those interested, the epilogue to Speak Now was posted on my Tumblr yesterday._


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